Desert Rose
by Sainte Matthewe
Summary: Vash the Stampede dreams of fire


Desert Rose 

Desert Rose 

By Sainte Matthewe 

Author's Note: Vash the Stampede, and all other related characters or terms are copyright 1997(?) by Yashiro Nightow and 1999(?) by Pioneer. "Desert Rose" words and music are copyright 2000 by Sting. 

I dream of rain 

I dream of gardens in the desert sand 

I wake in pain 

I dream of love as time runs through my hands 

Rem… 

A pair of wide, guileless, and tear-filled turquoise eyes opened as Vash the Stampede awoke with a gasp. He looked about, and sighed, relieved to see the barren little room instead of the sophisticated spaceship that had been the setting of his most recent nightmare. He closed his eyes for a moment, and let the tears run freely down his face. 

After a bit, he sat up, and shook his head, hoping to shake off the last vestige of a nightmare woven with true memories. Unfortunately, he couldn't. Looking up at the fifth moon as it glared accusingly down at him, he stood, tired muscles protesting. While he walked to the window, each scar that twinged, and every bit of scar tissue beneath that made itself felt brought all his thoughts back to the dream, and, inevitably, her… 

I dream of fire 

These dreams are tide to a horse that will never tire 

And in the flames 

Her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire 

As he returned to his bed, Vash really didn't believe he could get back to sleep or that the dreams would return this night. He was wrong on both accounts. 

Ah, gods… Not again. 

Although more than a hundred years separated him and the "rec-room" of that space ship, Vash found himself there, not as a boy, but as a man in the blood red trench coat he thought he destroyed. Gone was its green tranquility. It was replaced by leaping flames, which did not touch him, but cloaked all he saw. As this fire danced and devoured, two cool shadows appeared amongst them. 

This desert rose 

Each of her veils, a secret promise 

This desert flower 

No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this 

He calmly walked towards the closer of the two shadows. The flames parted before him, and showed the figure to be a kneeling woman of long raven hair. 

Rem…? 

He could not see her face, her dark mane hid it from him, but it seemed she was entranced by a flower reduced to charcoal by the fires that surged around her. 

And as she turns 

This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams 

This fire burns 

I realize that nothing is, as it seems 

Vash blinked twice, and realized the woman was not untouched by the flames. Her hair was singed, her clothes were so much charcoal. Black skeletal hands reached out to caress the burnt flower, and clasped together in delight as it collapsed in a heap of ashes. 

Rem?! 

She turned to face him, and he was shown a blackened, grinning skull instead of a much-loved visage. 

The second shadow made its approach, and Vash looked up to see darkly amused and cruel blue eyes, which blinked at him from a face he knew as well as his own. 

You! 

"Take care of Knives, Vash!" exclaimed the kneeling corpse, as the newcomer laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to go the way of that flower. 

He blinked dumbly at the pile of ash, then raised his eyes to glare at the other figure. 

REM!! 

I dream of rain 

I dream of gardens in the desert sand 

I wake in pain 

I dream of love as time runs through my hands 

I'll take care of Knives… 

"I'll take care of Knives." Vash heard a voice mutter thickly, as the suns' light alit on his closed eyes. He peeled them open, and blinked at the ceiling. He knew he had spoken in his sleep. 

With a heart-wrenching sigh, he stiffly removed himself from the tangle of blanks, and started his morning routine. 

I dream of rain 

I lift my gaze to empty skies above 

I close my eyes, this rare perfume 

Is the sweet intoxication of her love 

Stumbling down to the inn's common room for breakfast, Vash noted a sideways glance a dark-haired woman in white was giving him over her cup of coffee. 

Unbelievable. 

He smiled, and straightened up before approaching her. 

So much like her… 

Sweet desert rose 

This memory of Eden haunts us all 

This desert flower, this rare perfume 

Is the sweet intoxication of the fall 

Shoving away the memory of the dream-woman crumbling, he claimed the stool next to the lady in white. "Hey. Long time no see." 

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